


Miles to Go

by amberswansong



Category: Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008)
Genre: Addiction, Drugs, F/M, Post-Canon, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-30
Updated: 2009-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-04 01:07:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amberswansong/pseuds/amberswansong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's raining, and I'm thinking about being out there, in an alley."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miles to Go

_It's been a long time, and I'm not that girl any more._ I tell myself that, on nights like these when the paperwork is piled up in erratic stacks that threaten to slide off my desk, and I shove away from the demands of my company and press myself against the cold glass of the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring into the dark. It's raining, and I'm thinking about being out there, in an alley, rough brick digging into my cheek, the rain sliding down my neck and pooling in the small of my back. My skin is cold, his breath is hot, and I can feel every buckle on my corset pressed into my stomach, every inch of him pressed into me, the instant before the Z-gun goes off and my world becomes bright sparkles.

It was a bad time in my life, and I know it, and I'm willing to admit it. I am living proof that it is possible to get clean, to stay clean, to reclaim your life after surgery addiction, and it was never really the drug I was addicted to so much as the idea of perfection.

But tonight, tonight I want to pull out the wig and the corset and the whip and walk the streets again looking for a man I haven't seen in years, pale and slim and smirking, holding a shining vial in mocking temptation. And it isn't the vial I want so much as the brick and the rain and the man. I want him to pull me down behind his dumpster, to scrape my knees on the pavement, to shove my knees over my head. I want him to undress me in the tiny one-room apartment he squats in sometimes, the moonlight through the broken window making my skin glow, to ride him on the thin mattress, to scream with the agony and the ecstasy intermingled. I want to hear him say my name like a curse, a litany, to whisper _Amber_ hoarse and aching in my ear, to sink my teeth into his shoulder as he spills into me. I don't miss the emptiness that was my life, the surgery and the Zydrate and the shopping; I am satisfied with what I've become in running my father's company, and I am fulfilled with the changes I have made and the growth I have created, but tonight I miss Graverobber and the simplicity of lust.

I pull myself away from the window and go back to the budget report, and I tell myself that tomorrow I'll stop working at the end of the day and make Luigi take me out to dinner. Because I'm happy and fulfilled and I have no business being lonely.


End file.
